


The Conception of America's Baby

by MelliviaGrant_forPresident (SilverShortyyy)



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Multi, OT3, Other, Smut, implied Mellitz and Olitz, like super slight, super slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:50:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7475808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShortyyy/pseuds/MelliviaGrant_forPresident
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz struggles to get an erection and Mellie can't think of any way to make this work. They need to conceive a child; there's no way out now. Suddenly, she's struck with an idea. “Imagine I’m Olivia Pope.” She continues to wipe the drool off her cheeks and chest. “Close your eyes and imagine I’m Liv.” With a gulp and a bob of Fitz's Adam’s Apple, Mellie begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Conception of America's Baby

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take and how Baby Teddy was conceived because honestly, I don't know how else Mellie and Fitz could've made it work. Enjoy!

“Goddammit Mellie! Why are we even forcing this? You know as well as I do there’s no way in _hell_ we can do this!” Fitz walks off, away, going over to his boxers in a pool with his shirt on the bedside chair.

“Fitz,” she tries to reach him, but he yanks his arm away every single time. “Fitz,” and she’d never admit it but the sight of his bare back reminds her of long ago, when they were young, years back when they were a newly married couple struggling to get out of bed while their limbs are bumping into the wrong but right places. “Fitz-!” But those memories are for another time. Her patience wears thin, and her frustration comes off on his inability to get an erection.

“Fitzgerald!” She shouts— _reprimands_ is the word—with a stomp at the soft fluffy carpet beneath her feet.

“What?” He all but spits out at her, turning to face her with his bare back still to her.

And she thinks, and she thinks, but all that comes to her is to put her palms hot against his skin and to turn him to face her completely. She gently urges his hips to turn, and to her delight, he faces her. Her hands slide down his chest, then traces the lines of his abs on the way down. Her eyes don’t separate from his, and she tries her best not to show the pain she feels in the deepest corners of her at how he doesn’t feel this, at how he doesn’t feel _anything_ , no matter how hard she tries or what she does now.

Still, she continues on.

And soon she’s kneeling down before him, his length parallel to her face.

She takes him in, just as she knows he likes it, licking his head and lightly playing with his balls while looking at him, looking into his eyes, and even when he’s halfway into her mouth his expression still hasn’t changed a bit.

How, how else is she going to do this?

She slides him out of her mouth, her saliva dripping from his head to her chest, skidding down in an otherwise seductive way. And if it were anyone else, she knows that’s where they would look. She knows her dripping saliva would captivate their eyes, and they would immediately get inappropriately hard for her. But no, not Fitz. Fitz looks in her eyes, and in her eyes he can see her question: what do I have to do? And in his eyes, she can see his own question, an answer back to her, to keep her from begging for an answer: why did you have to lie about another child?

They both know the answer to that. But he knows she knows better than he ever will, because she’s Mellie and he’s just Fitz and she’ll be smarter than he can ever be.

But behind his anger, behind his lack of love, behind everything in his eyes that has been there ever since he met Olivia, ever since it all happened, ever since chaos wreaked havoc upon their marriage and their love had ceased to be, behind it all is the man she used to know, staring back at her and wondering how he can make it better.

And in the man behind the beast, she sees her answer.

She wipes the drool on her chin and looks at him with a determined expression. And his eyes change. He looks at her expectantly, knowing she has come up with something to answer their dilemma.

“Imagine I’m Olivia Pope.” She continues to wipe the drool off her cheeks and chest. “Close your eyes and imagine I’m Liv.”

With hesitation, Fitz closes his eyes and tilts his head back so his Adam’s Apple is in plain sight and his head faces up to the ceiling. Mellie positions herself in front of his length once again, hands ready to trace his veins and take him in her mouth—completely.

“Liv licks me.” He says, stopping Mellie an inch away. “When I’m in her mouth, she licks me. And she plays-“

“Okay.”

And with a gulp, with a bob of his Adam’s Apple, Mellie begins.

Her hands cup his balls and lifts them alternately, the right then the left then the right then the left, while she takes his length in her mouth and slowly eases it in. She lets her mouth wreak havoc and lose innocence and proper behavior as she smacks every side of him, feels his veins pulse and grow beneath the flat of her tongue. Unknowingly, she lets a hand of hers slip between her legs, and there she feels herself warmer, stickier, _wetter_ , just by the way his veins feel popping against her tongue.

“Liv…” He moans out, and she would deny in a sober state the rush that she feels against her fingers and the sudden chill that turns her nipples into hard little perky pebbles.

Gently, he thrusts into her mouth while one hand settles in her hair. His thrusts get deeper and faster, faster, faster, faster, until she can feel his head colliding with her throat and his hand fisting her hair. He already leans back for support, one hand pushed on the bed, while he pushes her head to take him deeper and deeper. She thinks she’ll gag, but the bile that threatens to rise up her throat suddenly becomes a rush of wetness that coats her pumping fingers, up and deeper into her while her thumb slams into her clit sending electric shocks of pain and utter pleasure.

The split second she thinks she’ll vomit, he takes his length out of her mouth and leaves her relieved and annoyed. That is, until he pulls her by the hair and plunges his length into her mouth once again, his knees pinning her arms down and his hands flat on the wall behind her.

Be it blind luck, the edge of a pillow ends up wedge between her legs. And as he begins to moan Olivia’s name over and over again, she feels herself thrusting her center against the pillow, needing the friction the wetter she got at the sound of her husband moaning his mistress’ name.

And, though she will never admit it in her sober times, a seductive and curvaceous mistress whose carriage of power turns her on.

He then screams, and pulls himself out of her mouth. He pushes himself off of the wall and sprays his load all over her, landing on her cheeks, her breasts, her stomach, and some even on her ridiculously wet center. He’s out of control, a monster, and God does she wish she was Olivia Pope so she could see this side of him every day.

Rough. Merciless. Dominant.

But, well, she is never one for pretenders.

As soon as he finishes, he grabs him and pushes him down, feeling his warm load skidding down her skin and tasting it on her lips.

_This, for Olivia Pope._

Mellie feels her center hum with anticipation.

As wet as she undeniably is, she slips him into her with ease and pounds him into her as easily. She does this unknowing that Olivia really does this to him, though she does this not as Mellie (because Mellie would never _want_ to be a top, unless it’s on top of everyone else in the political hierarchy) but as Olivia. And it turns her on, oh turns her on, gets her _so damn wet_ thinking of herself as Olivia Pope, and hearing him moan her name while she rides him with the ferocity of a tiger.

“Liv… Liv… Liv…!” He sounds so desperate, and she loves it. She loves the sound of Olivia’s name on his lips, and the way he grows at the thought of being inside Olivia, and the way he moans so deliciously every time she pounds onto him even at the thought of the bed possibly breaking.

“Ah! I-I’m gonna-“ He does it so quickly she doesn’t even have time to open her eyes.

He flips them over and pins her arms over her head, pounding into her and hitting her _right there_ that makes her moan loudly, loudly, _louder_ than she’s supposed to. A second ago she could still hear the squeak of the bed, now all she hears are her pants and her animalistic grunts. She should feel ashamed like this: come undone by the thought of her husband pretending she was another woman, but it made her feel so good. It turned her on so much that she doesn’t think she’s ever been this wet before.

And _oh God she is wet_.

With every one of his thrusts, her grunts are met with his moans of pleasure, _oh_ ’s and _ah_ ’s and _Liv, fuck, you’re so tight_ and every time, she feels her nipples harden and she feels her spine tingling and she feels herself get closer and closer to the edge, every time his says _Olivia_.

“Tell me you want my baby, Liv.” His raspy voice whispers in her ear, and she feels every hot puff of his breath at every coinciding thrust. “Tell me you want it.

“Tell me you want me to cum in you so hard you’ll black out.”

_… Liv…. Liv… Liv… Tell me you want my baby, Liv._

“Liv-“

“I want it.” And oh how humiliating she sounds. So desperate, so breathless, so turned on by this freakish roleplay they have initiated, so aroused and mussed up that she barely even cares. “I want your baby, Fitz.” And the sheer fact that she says it all as Olivia, oh, that makes her closer, closer, closer to the edge. “Cum in me, cum in me so hard I’ll black out.”

_… Liv… Liv… Liv… Liv… Liv…_

All she hears is him moaning Olivia Pope’s name.

With that, and with one final, deep, and ecstasy-triggering thrust, she comes undone and shudders beneath him.

She feels his seed pour into her, warm and steady and so much that she feels it overflow, until the moment he pulls it out that she’s so full of him, too full that it leaks on the sheets even with her full of his seed already.

It makes her feels so good, to be Olivia Pope, for him to call her Olivia Pope, and for him to be hard because of Olivia Pope.

As she comes down from her high, he rests his semi-hard length on her stomach as he leans down to whisper in her ear.

“I love you, Mellie.”

Her heart cracks a little, and she smiles, but she smiles enough for it to be real but enough for him not to see. Though, he was too spent to see it after he fell asleep on top of her.

She falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, to the feel of his still-warm cum still dripping out of her, and to the thought that he could love her again, to the thought of them possibly getting a happily ever after.

* * *

Mellie lies in bed, her pale arm on a darker one, while her fingers play with dark-skinned fingers with nails painted black. And she loves this, love the contrast, loves the opposition of everything that they both are yet they are so alike in every way.

“It made me wet, you know.”

The woman she spoons scoffs, snuggling in closer as if they aren’t already smothered together. “What, me sexting you during an important presidential meeting?”

“No; Fitz imagining I was you when he fucked me senseless to conceive Teddy.” At her words, Mellie feels the atmosphere grow colder, the sweat on Olivia’s back freezing along with the muscles on her arm. Mellie didn’t know if it would be okay to mention this, but she knows there is no other way to do it. With how they both are, with their current schedules, they’re better off taking things seriously once she’s out of office. But Olivia surprises her when she shifts to lie facing Mellie, body closer than before with no spaces left between them.

Olivia looks at Mellie’s face and it’s like she caresses every inch of it with her eyes. She glorifies every bit of Melody Grant; this woman is more beautiful than Aphrodite to her. To add to that beauty, Mellie still had undried fluids on her face and semi-dried sweat, and a small pant coming out of her plump red lips with smudged lipstick from their animalistic urges at coming home, and Olivia just thought Mellie is the epitome of perfection. Olivia won’t even deny it; she’s hopelessly, carelessly, utterly in love with Melody Grant.

Olivia smirks and slips her knee between Mellie’s legs, ‘accidentally’ bumping into Mellie’s center. Mellie gasps, but her eyes remain in contact with Olivia’s. Mellie looks so submissive like this, and Olivia wouldn’t deny how much it turns her on.

“So the president does have a mistress kink.”

Olivia pushes on Mellie’s leg so Mellie would be at the bottom and she’d be at the top, and she reveled in the sounds she could squeeze out of Mellie as the night continued and the world went on with its routines clueless about their relationship.

That is, most of the world. At least, the world that doesn’t include the great majority of the people who know them. Including Fitz. And OPA. And Cyrus and Portia and, well, a whole lot of people, really.

“I love you, Livvie.”

“I love you, Mellie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
